


a certain playboy

by fan_nerd



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9122215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fan_nerd/pseuds/fan_nerd
Summary: @v-nikiforov- The handsome playboy has returned to town. Please pay special attention to my Free Skate tomorrow. ♥♥♥There’s no way that Victor, Yuuri’s childhood idol, could be callingYuuria handsome playboy, just because they’d met eyes at two skating events. Besides, a total stranger had given Yuuri the tickets. It would be totally absurd.Yuuri frowns, turning his head on the pillow.Wouldn’t it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a fluff monster. hahaha.
> 
> written for another [request](http://wbtrashking.tumblr.com/tagged/wtk-requests)! beta'd by the lovely [@capshere](http://capshere.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> rq's are currently closed, but will open back up in jan!! stay tuned!!
> 
> EDIT DEC 31, 2016: there is now art for [the last scene](https://dubiouspasta.tumblr.com/post/155192841913/) by my pal [@dubiouspasta](https://dubiouspasta.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!!! go check it out!! i'm dying honestly,,,OTL everyone's being too good to me, i'm gonna pass out!!!!

Yuuri winds up with tickets that are anonymously delivered to him in the mail. He calls the company affiliated with the arena to make sure that the tickets are legitimate; that they were not sent to him by accident. The Japanese man goes to even further lengths to make sure that the plane ticket voucher paper clipped to the seat at the European Nationals is authentic before he books a hotel.

Everything’s clean, which just leads him to wonder who would have sent this very deliberately thought-out gift to his family home in Hasetsu, which is a remote place very hidden from the eyes of the media. Sure, Yuuri’s been practicing on and off, but he certainly isn’t at the weight he was back in December for the GPF. Despite everything, Yuuri still finds himself drawn to skating, and he’s more than eager to go see his favorite skater in the world, _in person,_ even if he’s a little sad that he can’t stand on the podium with the older man.

The first event of the Grand Prix qualifiers that Victor goes to is the Trophée de France, where he meets up with his old rival, Christophe, and a somewhat new face to the scene, Otabek Altin. Victor warms up with a huge smile for the audience, and beckons the dawn of the new season with a spectacularly fresh routine.

Victor’s outfit is something of a mix between the costume he’d worn in his Junior Division days and the magenta number from the previous season. It’s dark and driven, his hair is wildly gelled back, and Yuuri stares in awe as he sits very close to the signboards, watching his idol gracefully glide over the ice.

In a strange way, it feels like Victor is looking for someone as he nails every single combination, and the timing for his quad flip is flawless, as always. Yuuri can see the story unfolding in the silver-haired man’s routine, a tale of passion and desperate infatuation, and when Victor finally comes to a halt, it almost feels like their eyes meet.

Yuuri claps for him, mouth slipping over his scarf to yell his congratulations in Russian. Victor blows a kiss to the stands where the younger man sits and Yuuri flushes hot, despite knowing there’s not a chance in the world that Victor intends for the gesture to be directed at him.

Afterwards, Yuuri watches the highlight reel and the replays, watching Victor kiss gold with Christophe in second and Otabek in third.  

One of the news anchors asks Victor, “What inspired this juicy routine?”

He quickly answers, “I had a rather moving encounter that inspired this dance, and I hope that someday, someone will find this too captivating to stay hidden.” 

It’s a bold response. Yuuri rolls his eyes and blushes in second hand embarrassment, almost feeling sorry for Victor. “Your coach is gonna be so mad at you for saying that,” he murmurs knowingly, flipping through the channels when the announcers move on to take statements from other competitors.

//

The next time Yuuri receives a strangely pointed anonymous donation, he’s busy raking leaves from the front porch. The mail delivery woman comes up, bows her head to him, and hands over the small package. Yuuri finds that it’s addressed to him, rather than his parents or sister, so he opens it with a small scowl.

Tickets to the Rostelecom Cup are enclosed, along with more plane vouchers, this time to Moscow, and there’s even a recommendation for a hotel typed up and folded inside of the padded yellow envelope.

He stares off into the distance, wishing that whoever the benefactor is, this person who’s determined to get him to the season’s major skating events, would at least leave a return address on all of this mail. If anything this valuable were to go missing at the post office, the Japanese man is sure that someone would take advantage of the find.

Still, he isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He bundles himself up, says goodbye to his family, to his old teacher, and shuttles off. He gets a book that is long enough to read on the train and during the flight. Yuuri finds himself fairly close to the coaching area of the rink again. Victor is fourth in the lineup today, and when the Latin-inspired song starts playing on the stereo system, Yuuri puts his hands on his legs and sucks in a nervous breath. 

Victor opens with a sultry look, leveling his arm in Yuuri’s general direction and licking his lips. His short program, _On Love: Eros_ is incredibly erotic, which, _yeah, duh,_ the song’s title actually gives that away. It almost feels like Victor is going around rink with the correct timing for taking off right in front of Yuuri, landing a triple flip and combination spin, and he’s _so close_ that Yuuri flushes.

At the end, the Russian blows a kiss to Yuuri’s stand, and the Japanese man puts a hand over his chest in shock. Victor winks right after he does it, and the media has a field day. 

Yuuri ducks away and escapes, of course, but he scrolls through Twitter on his way back to the hotel and his feed is bombarded with curious headlines. _Was Victor Gesturing to his Elusive Sweetheart Today?_

Victor eventually answers everyone on his Instagram, taking a selfie that is unfairly sensual. **_@v-nikiforov_** : _And so the handsome playboy returns to town. Please pay special attention to my Free Skate tomorrow._ _♥♥♥_  

The man whose birthday is in a week curls up under the comforter and tries to will his nervous blush off of his face. After all, there’s no way that his childhood idol could possibly be referring to him. Victor, calling _Yuuri_ a handsome playboy, all over meeting eyes at two skating events because some stranger had given Yuuri free tickets? That would be absurd. 

Yuuri frowns, turning his head on the pillow. _Wouldn’t it?_

//

Victor opens his free skate by blowing a kiss in Yuuri’s direction. He forms a little heart with his hands, placing the center of it right over his chest, and then he goes on to put on a show, like he’s seducing an audience of one instead of thousands.

When he’s finished, he gets down on his knees and mouths words. Yuuri puts a nervous hand over his chest, points to his face with a racing heart, and Victor nods. All the cameras turn towards the Japanese man, but the recently retired skater high-tails it out of there before any of them can focus on his face.

Once he makes it back to his hotel in a panic, he sends Phichit a message. _Hey_ , he types slowly, both hands shaking, _Would you believe me if I said that Victor Nikiforov dedicated his FS to me?_

Seeing the words written out, glowing back at him on his smartphone, Yuuri feels like an idiot. It has to be a coincidence. Phichit will reassure him of this, and Yuuri will go back to wallowing in his misery, wondering what he’s going to do with his life since he’s not competitively skating. 

Instead, his friend quickly texts back, _Of course I believe you!! Victor said his secret playboy was short, dark, and handsome, right? Cameras were blurry during the live feed, but it looked like he was pointing at someone like you in the audience today. Were you sitting there, Yuuri?_

Yuuri puts his phone down and throws an arm over his face. His chest _literally_ hurts because his heart is racing so quickly inside of it, and he wills himself to stop hyperventilating, trying not to have a panic attack and failing.

“Me?” He speaks to the empty hotel room, closing his eyes so tightly that his head starts to hurt. “But we’ve never even _met_ before.”

Yuuri miraculously avoids the media when he slinks out of Victor’s home country and hurries back to his childhood home, working hard not to check the news while he sits in the airport.

//

Minako brings him the mail on the day after his birthday. “I bought us tickets to the Final,” the woman grabs Yuuri’s arm when he makes to slink away from her. “Everything’s paid for, Yuuri, and you’re coming with me!”

“Why,” Yuuri whispers, glasses nearly falling off of his face as she tugs him down the stairs.

“Because Victor Nikiforov could be your secret admirer!” He digs in his heels at that - there is just _no way_. “Don’t you think the timing is a little strange? Someone keeps inviting you to events showcasing Victor’s new program, which is all about being seduced and then estranged, and then he practically calls out to you in the audience. These tickets I got, they were _steeply_ discounted, because someone sent me a link for them, along with everything else the two of us would need to go see your beloved Victor perform up close and personal.”

“Guhh,” Yuuri intelligently replies, absently tugging on his baggy coat and putting on his shoes while the woman prattled on. “I think you’re definitely wrong about this.”

His old teacher whips her head around, dark brown locks swirling as she glares at him. “Well, let’s go to the Grand Prix and find out.”

Yuuri hangs his head and packs his bag, following her like a wounded animal.

// 

A reporter catches Yuuri while he’s walking to his seat, marveling over finding the old skater in Barcelona. The man asks for his opinion on the competitors - Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin, Christophe Giacometti, Phichit Chulanont, Jean-Jacques Leroy, and Victor Nikiforov. Just this time last year, Yuuri had been in the lineup, and his old rivals are all getting ready to practice.

It feels a hell of whole lot worse than he thought it would; retiring, that is.

“I’m sure it’ll be a stiff competition,” Yuuri replies softly, his mouth feeling like cotton. “All of these guys are incredible, and it’s going to be a vicious fight to the podium.” His dark eyes wander to the ice, where the aforementioned men are twirling and posing. Just as he’s ready to open his mouth and finish speaking, Victor comes over to the sign boards, takes a long swig of water, and leans over the edge. “Um,” Yuuri fishes for words, fully aware that his childhood idol is _staring_ at him, “Anyways, stay tuned. I wish them all good luck.”

He scurries off as soon as he waves to the reporter. Yuuri keeps nervously glancing at Victor, who winks at him, and the younger man squeaks, slumping into his chair.

The _Eros_ routine is beautiful and seductive, of course. Yuuri squirms in his seat, feeling warm under the collar as Victor slides his pale hands over the dark costume. When Victor is finished, he puts his hands around his sides, licks his lips, and blows a kiss in Yuuri’s direction.

Next to him, Minako squeals excitedly, elbowing her student in the ribs. “Look! Look, Yuuri, it’s for you!” Somebody tosses flowers to Victor, and Victor immediately tosses the bouquet to Yuuri. Yuuri scrambles to catch it with a furious blush on his cheeks.

He swears that Victor mouths, _See you later,_ as he skates off to the kiss-and-cry, Coach Yakov berating his pupil the moment Victor steps off of the ice. 

“What did you _do_ to him?” Minako finally asks, impressed that Yuuri had had such an impact on the international superstar.

Yuuri clutches the flowers to his chest and groans. “I don’t _know_!”

//

That same night, Yuuri comes back to his hotel and the concierge calls out to him. “Are you Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri turns and frowns, gesturing for his ballet instructor to leave him behind and head up to her room. “Yes, I am.”

“We received an invitation for you, sir,” the polite young woman says, handing Yuuri an envelope. “Have a great night.”

“How did you know to give this to me?” Yuuri rasps, not entirely sure that he’s ready for the answer.

“A man came here with your picture. He’s staying with us as well, and he seemed thrilled to find you and give you this invitation himself, but apparently he’s very busy.” 

Yuuri feels like his world stops, but he nods vacantly and turns the envelope over in his hands. 

When he gets back to his room and opens it, it’s an invitation to the banquet. For the Grand Prix. _As Victor Nikiforov’s Plus-One_.

“What did I _do_?” Yuuri wonders, equal parts shocked and excited to talk to Victor _in person_.

Mostly, he just feels overwhelmed, and when his emotions start to make his head feel cloudy, he lies down and goes to sleep.

// 

The next morning, reporters _swarm_ Yuuri at the arena. Yuuri doesn’t have anything to tell them, really, other than that he’s looking forward to today’s performance. He drags his feet on his way to the bathroom before the athletes take the ice, and miraculously stumbles into an old rival.

“Ch-Chris!” Yuuri squeaks as he bows apologetically. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t see you. It’s almost time to go out. What are you doing out here?”

The Swiss man shrugs, getting uncomfortably close to Yuuri and running a hand over the Japanese man’s slightly plump legs. “You’ve picked up a bit of weight, hmm?”

Yuuri grumbles in frustration. “I’m not competing. Sue me.”

Chris smiles softly, green eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. You look great.” He bends and takes a long, appreciative look at Yuuri’s round behind. “Your ass, especially.” 

“Chris!” Yuuri yelps, swatting Chris’s wandering hands off of him with a hot blush. “Come on, seriously. Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to get away from those silly Russians for a while,” Chris replies quickly, going through his stretches. “You know, the one who keeps snarling about you sharing his name and leaving because you were _scared_ of him or something, and the other one who can’t shut up about you. At all. Because he’s infatuated with you.”

“Oh god,” Yuuri groans, face growing even warmer. “Please, Chris. Please tell me _why_ figure skating’s greatest legend is trying to seduce me, if you know. I’m so confused. I don’t think we’ve stood in the same room together for more than five minutes. Why?”

“What?” Chris blinks in confusion, laughing suddenly and loudly. “Are you joking?” 

“ _Why would I joke about this_?” Yuuri feels like screaming. “Man, stop laughing. You’re freaking me out.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” The Swiss man hums, pulling out his phone with a cattish smile. “You must not remember last year’s banquet.”

“Huh?” The Japanese man takes Chris’s phone just as a buzzer sounds for all the competitors to come back to the rink. Chris hurries away, leaving the device with him and waving. 

“Take your time and look through _all_ of the photos in the GPF album!” He blows Yuuri a kiss and starts to warm up on the ice. 

Yuuri does as Chris says, flicking through them. He gapes and the color drains out of his cheeks immediately.

Unfortunately, Yuuri can piece together what had happened, based off of these photos alone. His own image stares back at him, foolishly sly and hilariously drunk. _Two_ bottles of champagne are in his hands - and who even _gave_ him the bottles, anyways? - he’s throwing himself over everyone, and, most shockingly, he’s _dancing_. 

First, he’s dancing with Yuri Plisetsky, which is a surprise. The kid had practically told Yuuri to eat shit and die at the Sochi Grand Prix final, but he almost looks upset that he’s losing in some sort of dance battle to Yuuri, like maybe he’d wanted to dance with Yuuri a few more times. Maybe to redeem himself? Or maybe because he’d just had fun. Yuuri laughs a bit at his expressions. The blonde actually looks like a _child_ in these pictures. 

Then, he’s dancing with Chris. Yuuri walks to his seat, eyes flicking between the phone and Chris himself, who wears a flashy black-and-red costume, the sides of outfit showcasing his clear skin. The two of them are _pole dancing, holy shit_. Yuuri had taken a few classes for fun and giggles back in college, but he never would have guessed that he put them to use last year. 

Finally, he’s dancing with _Victor_. His idol; beautiful, ethereal Victor, who blows him a kiss and who will skate last in his free skate because he placed first in the short program, of course. They both look so _happy_ , almost blissfully so, and Yuuri’s pretty mad that he doesn’t remember this.

Yuuri sneaks to the coaching area to give Christophe his phone. He stays there with the blonde’s permission until Victor comes off the ice, waits until Victor gives his statements, receives his gold medal, kisses it, and hurries to go rest before the exhibition in an hour, quickly followed by the banquet in the evening. 

Scrounging a healthy dose of courage up from deep within himself, Yuuri manages to sneak into the athlete’s area, no doubt pardoned by security because he had been amongst these same men less than twelve months ago. He finds Victor sitting alone on the bench, blue eyes flicking up quickly when Yuuri steps into the changing quarters. “So,” the younger man starts, feeling weak at the knees, “Apparently, we need to talk?”

Victor slides his boots off with a small smile. “Apparently so!” He chirps, puts his blade guards on, and puts the skates in a bag. “I’m delighted to see you again, my mysterious muse.”

“I, ah, really owe you an apology,” Yuuri squirms in place, sure that his face is cherry-red. “Um, I, I was really, _really_ drunk last year, and I didn’t. Remember. Anything? At all?” He averts his eyes as Victor’s face visibly falls. “Sorry! Really sorry. But, um, it looked like we had a lot of fun, and I’m sort of sad that I forgot.”

“So then, all this time,” Victor starts, scowling a bit, “You came to see me, and you didn’t know that I was performing this routine for _you_?”

“I had no idea, until about two hours ago,” Yuuri murmurs guiltily. “Chris told me about it, and showed me the photos of us.”

Victor deflates even further, huffing. “You didn’t get _any_ kind of hint when I sent you all the tickets and invited you to the hotels where I was staying?” 

“You never signed your name!” Yuuri gapes, arms flaring out widely. “There is _no way_ I could have ever considered that _the_ Victor Nikiforov was sending _me_ personal invitations to his performances!” 

“I’m just a person, Yuuri,” Victor says, standing up and reaching for Yuuri’s hand. “Just a man who had a good time with you, so many months ago, and who has been teased with the sight of you this whole season, but you keep running out of my sight. I called myself being _romantic._ ”

“Ahugh,” Yuuri intelligently responds, head spinning. When he finally regains his bearings, he blinks up at Victor. “Okay. Okay! So, let’s just. Um. Pretend this is happening, in real life.”

Victor’s hands are hot around his own and the taller man grins. “Mmhmm.”

“And that I’m not dreaming everything up,” Yuuri closes his eyes, breath coming quickly. 

“So far so good,” Victor agrees, leaning further into Yuuri’s space. Yuuri can almost _feel_ the older man grinning, the Russian is so close. 

“And you want to…um… _seduce_ me? Because I? Did something super embarrassing?” 

Victor chortles, opening his arms and trying to stop his heart from leaping out of his chest. “It wasn’t embarrassing, Yuuri. It was _intoxicating_. I had the best night of my life.”

Yuuri chokes a bit, freezing in the circle of Victor’s arms and trying to suck in air. “ _Bleghhg??_ ”

“You’ll come to the banquet tonight, right?” Victor only pulls back so that he can see Yuuri’s constantly changing facial expressions, the grin on his face creeping up further with every second the small, curvy man squirms and comes to terms with Victor’s patient affection. “We can dance together again.”

Yuuri’s childhood idol is hugging him, waiting for Yuuri to say something, hug him back, _anything_ , and the Japanese man almost cries from sensory overload. “Yep. Definitely going,” he breathes, shakily reaching to hug Victor back and yelping when Victor squeezes him tightly. 

“I’m so happy!” Victor plants a wet kiss right on Yuuri’s cheek, laughing harder when Yuuri’s face turns another shade darker. He slinks away with a wave, leaving Yuuri dazed in the changing room.

// 

Yuuri stands awkwardly in the banquet hall. This time, Celestino hadn’t forced him here, as a skater - this time, he’s retired, out of shape, and horribly nervous, because he’d been invited as Victor’s _date_. 

The word still makes Yuuri feel hot all over, so he squirms in place until Victor arrives. He remains steadfast, refusing to drink and make a fool of himself two years in a row. Victor seductively slides onto the floor, wraps Yuuri up in his arms, and proposes a slow dance.

Everyone eagerly joins in, and Phichit snaps hundreds of pictures, claiming that he needs to make up for missing his best friend owning the dance floor the year previous, even if Yuuri hadn’t remembered winning the banquet competitions.

Both men laugh, slowly warming to each other’s presence, and as the night becomes very late, Yuuri interlaces his hands with Victor. Sheepishly, he asks, “You really _did_ model your short program after me? You think of me as a handsome playboy? Even now?” 

Victor playfully pinches Yuuri’s soft sides, leaning down to kiss Yuuri’s cheek again, pressing their palms together tightly. “Absolutely. Although, selfishly, I _do_ hope that the playboy will stick around this time and stay by my side.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Yuuri mumbles, hiding his nose in the lapels of Victor’s suit. “I stay with my parents in Japan, and…there’s not much for me to do at home, really. I couldn’t hold you back like that.”

“You could train with me,” Victor offers, sliding his hands up Yuuri’s back. “Come to Saint Petersburg. I saw you moving tonight, and I know it wouldn’t take much to get you back into competition shape. Do you still skate?”

Yuuri nervously closes his eyes and lets his hands rest at the small of Victor’s back. “Yeah, a little bit. It keeps me from getting really depressed.” Privately, he whispers, “I taught myself to do your free skate from last year, and I was going to show that to my old friend, but I got too nervous.”

Victor beams against Yuuri’s neck, his voice high and excited. “Oh, Yuuri. I’d love to see it. You’re considering coming out of retirement?”

“I’ll suck,” Yuuri assures the taller man, “But I don’t really have anything _else_ I want to do.”

The Russian pulls Yuuri up beside him and takes in a deep breath, loving the warmth of having Yuuri beside him. “I’m excited.” The two of them sneak away from the banquet to swap silly stories, staying up most of the night to talk until Victor falls asleep in exhaustion and Yuuri happily tiptoes back to his own room. 

//

A couple weeks later, just before Russian nationals, Yuuri sends Victor a message, books his _own_ plane ticket (although Victor had protested wildly, desperately trying to spoil Yuuri rotten), and he lands in Victor’s hometown.

Victor waits for him with a big, goofy smile.

Later that day, he makes a post on Instagram, featuring Yuuri’s hand on Makkachin’s fur, the younger skater sticking his tongue out at Victor.

 ** _@v-nikiforov_** _: Never give up on your happily-ever-after_.

Yuuri rolls his eyes when the post comes up on his feed, but he’s smiling too, both of them beyond pleased that the sweet, seductive dance had finally brought them together.

**Author's Note:**

> [last scene pic again!!](https://dubiouspasta.tumblr.com/post/155192841913/) i'm not over everybody's sweet art OTL
> 
> follow + chat w/me on tumblr [@wbtrashking](http://wbtrashking.tumblr.com/)! thank you all for reading and for all of your positive words of encouragement. it really means the world to me. ♥
> 
> don't forget to take [my poll on tumblr](http://wbtrashking.tumblr.com/post/155172823018) on what you'd like to see me write for yoi!!!


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